


A Sunless Dawn

by Grimalkenkid



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Non-Consensual Touching, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Edelgard von Hresevelg/My Unit | Byleth, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rating May Change, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Villain Edelgard von Hresvelg, Yandere Edelgard von Hresvelg, spoilers for Crimson Flower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimalkenkid/pseuds/Grimalkenkid
Summary: Byleth never meant for things to get this bad. When she stood at Edelgard's side, all she wanted was to find a peaceful compromise, a way to end the war before it began.But for Edelgard, peace was never an option. And now that Byleth's at her side, she'll never let her go.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 85
Kudos: 120





	1. A Horrible Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Other Content Warnings:  
> \- There is no rape in this fic. It's mentioned and thought about, but it never actually occurs.  
> \- There will be some instances of mutilation and body horror, and I'll put a warning at the beginning of the chapters in which it occurs.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Garreg Mach was under attack. The Adrestian army marched on the ancient fortress, demonic beasts leading the charge and rampaging through streets and buildings alike. A fire spread through the town, leaping from roof to roof in the wind. Screams of agony echoed against the nearby peaks, though none could tell which came from soldiers and which from civilians.

Dimitri struggled to keep his mind in the present. With every allied soldier who fell, he briefly felt like that child in Duscur once more, watching helplessly as everyone he knew and loved died to bandits’ blades.

But he wasn’t a child anymore. He was a fighter. He could protect his friends. He met the Imperial soldiers and beasts head-on, felling both with vicious swings of his lance. Dimitri growled as he pierced yet another soldier’s armor, sinking the sharp blade deep in his chest. The man sputtered, gasping as the warmth left his body, but Dimitri didn’t care.

Monsters didn’t care how many people they killed.

Yanking his lance out of the soldier’s chest, Dimitri noticed someone racing towards the archbishop, sword in hand. Without thinking, he threw his lance at the figure, mustering all his strength to launch it like a simple javelin. But the smoke and haze threw off his aim, and the steel weapon embedded itself into the stone wall just in front of them. It mattered little to Dimitri. He would have their life one way or the other.

Grabbing the vicious spear his previous enemy discarded, Dimitri ran across the battlefield towards the stopped foe. The only thought in his mind was to kill the Imperial army, to water the parched earth with their blood. When he got closer and saw just who he was now attacking, though, he paused his charge, if only briefly.

Byleth stood before him, wide eyes trained on the lance that had nearly taken her life. The moment she heard him approach, she whirled to see who had attacked her. To see who her executioner might be. And when she beheld the golden-haired prince, she smiled. It was the same smile he’d called ‘mesmerizing’ several times before, the smile which melted his defenses so easily and almost convinced him was worthy of love.

Now, it simply made him sick.

“I never thought  _ you _ were the foolish type,” Dimitri snapped, hefting the spear in his hands. “Your precious Flame Emperor can’t protect you now. But if you lay down your blade, I’ll give you a quick death.”

_ “She doesn’t even deserve that,”  _ the shades of loved ones demanded from the raging fires. _ “Tear her guts out and let her drown in her own sins.” _

The smile immediately fell from her face. “Dima? What--”

“You have no right to that name! You lost it when you stood at Edelgard’s side!” A savage flame roared to life in his chest. Did she think they were still friends? Still  _ lovers _ ? “It’s ‘Your Highness’ to you!” Despite his words, the look of hurt in her eyes pulled at his heart.

“Dimitri…” Byleth gasped. “No, I didn’t… I never meant--”

“How could you defend her? She murdered your father!” Dimitri stalked forward, the spear’s haft creaking under the strength of his grip. “You may as well have put the knife in his back yourself!”

_ “Yes, she let them kill her father. She let them kill  _ your _ father.” _

Tears had begun rolling down Byleth’s cheeks, her grip on the Creator Sword tenuous and loose. “Dimitri, I was--”

“Shut up, you traitorous bitch!” Dimitri raised his spear in preparation for another charge, short though it would be. “Now perish, and take your foul words with you!”

A fearsome roar shook the ground before he could take another step. Risking a glance behind himself, Dimitri saw the white form of the Immaculate One rising above the stone and wood bulwarks. He couldn’t see the enemy Rhea was facing now, but he could hazard a guess. Snapping his gaze back to Byleth, he snarled, “Looks like your precious Emperor will perish soon. But don’t worry… I’ll send you to meet her!”

“Dimitri, please listen!” Byleth cried over the cacophony of draconic rage. “I don’t want--”

A heavy, thunderous crack seemed to split the world in that moment. Dimitri reacted on instinct, falling back just before the ground crumbled beneath him. But Byleth was not so lucky. She only managed to rouse herself from her shock in time to reach towards Dimitri as she fell into the darkness alongside the rubble of the bridge.

Dimitri heard her scream as she was swallowed by the abyss below, though if it was his name, a cry for help, or just the sound of fear itself, he didn’t care. He was only upset that circumstance took her life before he had a chance to.

Before he could hold her in his arms one last time.

Dimitri shook the thought from his head. The battle was far from over, and he would fight with all he had. And he wouldn’t stop until Edelgard’s head was divorced from her shoulders.

_ “That is all that truly matters.” _

* * * * * * * * * *

With a savage roar, Dimitri demolished another training dummy. It was the fourth one just that night, but even that did little to quell the storm raging in his heart. He twisted the steel haft of his lance until it creaked and bent, barely breaking a sweat as he did so. It wasn’t enough, though. Dimitri had far too much energy and far too little to direct it at.

After the Battle of Garreg Mach, he had fled with Archbishop Rhea to Fhirdiad, combining their forces and readying for an Adrestian invasion. The first few months of conflict had been hell, and then… everything slowed. The Imperial army still pushed into Kingdom territory but with far less enthusiasm than expected. Gone were the sudden raids and assaults that fell like thunder upon his cities and forts, replaced with paltry attempts at subjugation. It was as if Edelgard was waiting for something, saving her strength by putting in the minimum effort needed to maintain a stalemate.

But even in a stalemate, the death toll climbed. In his dreams, Dimitri heard the cries of the fallen, begging him to enact their vengeance on the woman who had thrown their lives away and trodden on their happiness.

Dimitri knew he should rest, that he should wait until Yuri’s spies had something to report before attempting to reconquer his usurped territories. But sleep continued to elude him, even in the darkest hours before dawn came once more.

Gritting his teeth, Dimitri hurled the mangled lance at the solitary remaining dummy, knocking it to the ground with a loud clatter of steel and wood. He panted heavily, letting the silence of night consume the training grounds once more as he pondered whether another few laps around the castle would cool his head.

“You couldn’t sleep, either, Dimitri?”

Dimitri jumped and whirled around, body tense and ready for battle. However, he relaxed as soon as he saw the owner of that voice. “Oh… Hello, Mercedes,” he said sheepishly, wondering just how long she’d been watching. “I… yes, I suppose so. I must say, I’m surprised to see you up at this time of night.”

“Dedue’s also restless, and our bed’s a bit too cold to sleep in without him.” Mercedes smiled and stepped out of the shadows of the nearby hallway. She wore a heavy, fur coat over her nightgown and carried a tray with some teacups and a small pot with steam rising from its spout. “Care for some tea? I’ve heard chamomile helps with sleeplessness.”

A small smile gracing his lips, Dimitri wondered if Dedue had told her about his favorite tea. “I’d like that very much. Thank you,” he said.  _ I doubt tea will help. The company might, though. _

Mercedes set the tray down on a nearby bench and poured them each a cup. As Dimitri took a seat, the exhaustion of the past months seemed to hit all at once, and he plopped down heavily. Mercedes didn’t mind, though, and simply offered him a cup. This time, the silence that surrounded them as they drank was more comfortable than judgmental.

Dimitri gulped it down faster than he probably should’ve, but training always made him so thirsty. He didn’t linger on the mellow scent of chamomile or the warmth of the tea, as they would bring back memories he didn’t feel like revisiting. And yet, when he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, he was back in Garreg Mach, sitting in the gardens and chatting enthusiastically about silly topics with…

Suddenly, a ragged sob forced its way past Dimitri’s lips. His eyes flew open, shocked by the depth of his own sorrow. He felt Mercedes’s empathetic gaze on him but couldn’t muster the courage to look at her. “I… I’m sorry,” Dimitri mumbled. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Less than a moment passed before Mercedes lay a hand on his trembling shoulder. “Would it help to talk about it? I’m always ready to lend a friendly ear to your troubles… and a shoulder to cry on, if you want it.”

Dimitri took a few deep breaths before glancing at her. There was no pity or disgust in her eyes. Only an earnest desire to help. A desire that Dimitri knew all too well.  _ But Mercedes has always been so much better at it than me. _ Shakily placing his cup back on the tray, he sighed. “I don’t understand why she did it. Why she sided with El… I  _ can’t _ understand it.” He let out a bitter laugh. “It doesn’t matter now; she’s dead. I only regret that I didn’t have the pleasure of doing it myself.” Dimitri felt his stomach lurch at the thought of running his lance through Byleth’s stomach. Almost as if the idea horrified him. He let his head fall into his hands, shielding his tears from view despite the futility of such a task. “And yet… why do I miss her?”

Mercedes slowly rubbed his back in a soothing motion. “You were quite fond of her,” she said slowly. “Her… betrayal… didn’t change that. It only made the pain worse.”

Dimitri nodded solemnly. He didn’t need to ask to know Mercedes was feeling something quite similar. Perhaps not as intensely, as Dedue had stolen her heart long before she ever tried to court Byleth, but it was there all the same. “I suppose… I already knew that. I just didn’t want to admit it.” He took a few shaky breaths as he let his tears fall into his hands. “Is it wrong that I wish she was still by my side? As King of Faerghus… my only desire should be the safety and happiness of my people, but…” Dimitri let out another harsh sob. “Why did I have to be born so selfish?”

Mercedes said nothing for a long while, merely stroking his hair instead of his back as the sobbing grew worse. Dimitri leaned into her touch, longing for any kind of physical contact… and then cursed himself for needing something so base to comfort him. Then, quietly, Mercedes spoke. “It’s human to want things for yourself. You’re allowed to be selfish every now and then. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“But…” Dimitri lowered his hands form his face, letting her see the streaks of tears still running down his cheeks. “... does it make me a bad king?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know what makes a king good or bad.” Mercedes gave him a soft, kind smile. “But I do know what makes a good man. And you are a good man, Dimitri. Never doubt that. So long as you keep being a kind and caring man, I believe you’ll lead Faerghus well.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri sighed, a weight seemingly lifted from his shoulders. “That… means quite a lot to me.”

“I didn’t do anything besides point out what’s already true.” Quietly, she picked his cup back up and offered it to him. “Now how about we finish our tea. Wouldn’t want it to get cold, now would we?”

Dimitri chuckled softly, the first time he’d laughed in months. “Indeed. And… thanks again, Mercedes.”

“Any time.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Somehow, Byleth knew she had not died. Even within her dreams, she felt the ache of her torn and battered body, shivered at the chill of the cold ground. Time wove a cocoon around her, staving off the fatal fall until her body could heal. And through it all, caught in that limbo where the passing of seasons meant as much as the turning of the hours, Byleth dreamed of her home. She conjured musty halls and vibrant gardens, the thud of wooden weapons on steel armor, soft blankets smelling of chamomile.

It was a pleasant dream but not one she could indulge in forever. As her body reached the point of recovery, a familiar voice echoed in Byleth’s mind, urging her to wake once more. A bossy voice that admonished her for sleeping in, though Byleth knew she needed the time she’d taken. Time unwound around her, returning her to the present day… whatever that happened to be.

As her senses began to awaken, they painted a picture of her surroundings before her eyes ever opened. Byleth felt smooth stone against her back and warm water up to her shoulders. The smell of carnations, lavender, and honey filled her nose, and the slight splashes of the bath were amplified by the openness of the room she was in. But of most interest to Byleth was the realization that someone had her arm in their soft, delicate hands, letting a soapy sponge slowly glide over her skin like she was some kind of goddess. Which she was, to some degree, though she rarely thought about it that way.

Wearily, Byleth forced her eyes to open, taking in her surroundings quickly with the same skill she observed a battlefield. She was, indeed, in a marble bathtub, partially sunk into the floor of a large room with a vaulted ceiling. Intricately embroidered linen curtains covered the wide windows, letting in much of the sunlight and fluttering in the spring breeze. That was all she could make out clearly before the person washing her gasped and dropped her arm into the water.

“You… you’re awake? Oh, my teacher!”

Byleth’s blood ran cold as Edelgard pulled her halfway out of the water and into an embrace. She would’ve rather woken up in a Fhirdiad jail cell than see Edelgard. It certainly didn’t help matters that Byleth realized she wasn’t wearing anything. At least Edelgard had a linen shift on, small comfort though that was.

“I knew you would return to me,” Edelgard sighed in relief. “My teacher… how I’ve missed you.” Her hands traveled along Byleth’s back, tracing the pattern of her scars. Scars not even Dimitri had seen in their brief time together. And Edelgard was touching them with such… familiarity.

Panic swirled in her mind as Byleth wondered where else she had touched her while she slumbered. “Where… am I?” she slurred, her tongue still heavy from inactivity. “How long was I…?”

Edelgard jumped at the sudden noise and pulled back slightly. But the relieved smile remained on her face. “We’re in Enbarr, in the Imperial Palace.” She tenderly cupped Byleth’s face, stroking her cheek affectionately. “It’s been… so long… I’d nearly forgotten the sound of your voice…”

“Edelgard…” Byleth groaned, trying to wiggle out of her strong grasp. From anyone else, such a loving gaze would be a joy to wake to, but with Edelgard, she simply felt exasperation. “ _ How _ long?” The smile on Edelgard’s face fell slightly, and Byleth saw the cold, commanding eyes of the Emperor she’d foolishly chosen to protect. She brought her arms up to cover her chest, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable. “Please?” she asked quietly, glancing away from the intensity of Edelgard’s gaze. “I… I know I’ve been sleeping a long time, but… I don’t know if it’s a week, or a month… or a year… Won’t you please tell me how much time I’ve missed?” Then, very hesitantly, she added, “Please, El.”

The instant her pet name passed Byleth’s lips, the relieved mask settled on Edelgard’s face once more. Her hands dropped from Byleth’s face, but she didn’t withdraw her touch. Instead, Edelgard ran her hands down along her arms, pulling Byleth’s hands away from her chest so she could lace their fingers together. “Of course, my teacher. I can see why that would worry you,” she purred. “It’s been five years since we stormed Garreg Mach together. When we found your body after the battle… Well, no one expected you to recover, but I never lost hope.”

“Five…?” Byleth’s voice caught in her throat. Five years… that was more than enough time for Edelgard to sweep through all of Fodlan, “liberating” people who were in no need of saving. How many men and women had died in Edelgard’s pursuit of a perfect world? How many had Byleth  _ let  _ die as she slumbered in this decadent palace? “The war… What happened? How did it…?”

“Ah, yes. You’d probably like an update on our progress.” As she stood, Edelgard pulled Byleth to her feet, ignoring how she wobbled and swayed on legs unused to bearing weight. “Ever the diligent one, my teacher. I’ll have Hubert fetch the latest reports, and we can discuss them over tea.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes, her mind a whirlwind as she tried to process everything Edelgard said. “Y-you mean… the war’s still… going on?”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow, her grip tightening on Byleth’s hands. “Of course. Did you think I’d be able to finish it without you?”

“Yes…” Byleth muttered, a sickened feeling spreading throughout her body the longer they spoke. Something was very wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on what that was. “I don’t think I helped all that much in the one battle I was part of.” Byleth had made sure to spare as many Church soldiers as she could in her mad dash to return to Rhea’s side. And before that, she’d only given inconsequential bits of tactical advice while they planned the assault. Not that Edelgard would’ve listened to any significant change in strategy; she certainly hadn’t listened when Byleth suggested they try negotiating first.

But Edelgard merely chuckled, slowly tugging her towards an elegant, wooden door. “I see your humility hasn’t disappeared either. You are far more important than you know. You have a gift for rallying the troops, giving them the hope and courage to fight for intangible ideals. You inspire them to fight for what they believe in.” Suddenly, she turned to face Byleth again, who nearly ran into her. If Edelgard noticed, then she didn’t care, as she threaded her fingers in Byleth’s damp hair, her eyes fluttering like a smitten schoolgirl. “You inspire me.”

Then, Edelgard leaned in to kiss her, holding her head steady while her legs threatened to give out under her. Byleth’s eyes went wide as their lips touched. She’d never expressed interest in Edelgard before, so why the sudden familiarity?

Before she realized what she was doing, Byleth put her hands on Edelgard’s shoulders and pushed her away. “What are you doing?!” Byleth hissed. “We’re not—”

The words froze in her throat as she saw how Edelgard’s expression changed. Gone was the relieved smile, the adoring gaze… Now, Edelgard was once more the Emperor. Cold, proud, infallible. It was the same face she wore when Byleth admonished her for thinking of citizens’ lives as expendable. When she turned down an invitation for tea. When she spent time training with Caspar and Ferdinand instead of Edelgard.

The same face she wore when Byleth smiled at Dimitri.

_ Five years…  _ Byleth thought, horrible realizations swirling in her mind.  _ She thought we were lovers for five years… Why would she think that? Is… is it because I protected her? Goddess, I’ve been at her mercy for that long. What did she do to me? What did she do?  _ **_What did she do?!_ **

“I see,” Edelgard said after a moment of silence. However, her voice had an edge to it. The same sharpness Byleth often heard when Hubert threatened to kill someone. “You must still be waking up. Confusing dreams for reality. Perhaps you need some time alone to remember yourself.”

In one swift motion, Edelgard scooped Byleth into her arms, striding to the door with singular intent. Byleth felt even more helpless than before, her body relaxing after being pushed so quickly while her heart and mind wanted to be anywhere else. She trembled as Edelgard called for Hubert to open the door, which swung open on well-greased hinges. Edelgard didn’t even spare a glance back as she walked out of the bathing room and into what looked like an extravagant bedroom. Byleth did, however, and caught a glimpse of a tall, gaunt man holding open the door. He looked older and his hair was shorter, but she had no doubt it was Hubert. Given what she’d just learned, she knew Edelgard wouldn’t trust anyone else to see them in such a state of undress.

But Byleth didn’t see much of him before Edelgard took her directly into another adjacent room, this one a bit smaller than the other two. It appeared to be a private study, though like everything else she’d seen of the palace, it had Edelgard’s extravagant flair. Tapestries depicting the glory of Adrestia hung from every wall that wasn’t already occupied by a bookcase, and instead of a desk, there was a couch beside a low table. It was so tidy that Byleth wondered how much use this room actually got.

Edelgard went right up to the couch and laid Byleth down, gently but stiffly. “You’ll remain here until you’ve fully awakened,” she stated — no, commanded — before turning back to the single door. “No one will disturb you. You have my word.”

Byleth didn’t have the courage to say anything, merely nodding meekly as her former student left, closing the door behind her. After another few moments, she heard a loud click and two sets of footsteps walking away.

She didn’t move for quite some time, naked and cold from the water drying on her skin. When she finally felt a modicum of strength return, Byleth slipped off the couch and looked for something to wear. She found a small dresser off to the side, but it only contained undergarments, both red silk and creamy lace. Byleth sighed heavily and slipped on the most modest set. Clothes were clothes, after all, and she was too cold to care.

A loud growl reminded Byleth that she probably hadn’t eaten anything in several years. However, even a thorough exploration of the room revealed there was nothing in the way of food. Not even a pitcher of water. Swallowing her pride, she made her way to the door and tried turning the handle.  _ Locked,  _ she lamented, though it was hardly a surprise. Hazarding a knock on the door, Byleth called out, “Can I have some water? And food? … And clothes?”

Silence.

“Anything?”

Once more, silence was her only answer.

Tears began forming, and Byleth didn’t bother to stop them. Slumping back down on the couch, she sobbed quietly. Had she more strength, she might’ve attempted kicking the door down, but what would she do afterwards? Where would she go? She was just one woman in the heart of the Empire. A cold, tired, hungry woman.

“I wish I were still asleep…”

And, for a little while after the tears stopped, she slept.


	2. Falling Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert Mushu's "I live!" gif]
> 
> Apologies for the delay! I've been really busy and couldn't bring myself to write this chapter for the longest time. But it's finally done, and I hope I'll be able to get subsequent chapters out faster than once every eight months.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, and I hope you continue to enjoy this fic.

“Never thought I’d end up on this side of your sword, Teach,” Claude laughed feebly, clutching his side with one hand and Failnaught with the other. With a pained smile that just barely failed to hide a glare, he spat, “So, what now? Would probably be a bit too much to expect you’d let me go, would it? Your precious Flame Emperor isn’t known for her mercy.”

Byleth felt numb. She knew what was expected of her. She had to cut down any threat to the Emperor’s power. Claude was certainly a threat, his cunning and flexibility giving him an edge even against overwhelming odds. As Edelgard’s greatest general, Byleth had an obligation to kill him.

But she couldn’t.

As the rest of the Strike Force battled in the streets, Byleth had made a beeline for Claude himself. Edelgard said that they would offer mercy to the soldiers once Claude had fallen, and Byleth wanted this damn battle to be over with. She wanted this whole war to be over with. Charging in alone was a reckless move but paid off handsomely, as she dragged his wyvern to the ground with a well-placed flick of the Creator Sword. Once Claude was taken out, the rest of his army would crumble, either foolishly throwing their lives away or wisely surrendering. All Byleth had to do was kill him, and the battle would be over.

But she couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t kill an enemy on his knees.

Lowering her sword, Byleth glanced at Claude’s wyvern. The white-scaled beast was already recovering from its sudden acquaintance with the ground, and its wings looked undamaged. Claude could easily escape if he took to the skies. And hadn’t it been Claude who so loved to talk about living to fight another day?

_ Maybe… if it’s just him… _ Byleth squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before looking him in the eye. “Run,” she said. “Leave… while you still can.”

The shock on Claude’s face was absolute. He stared at her wide-eyed, and Byleth couldn’t tell why until she tasted something salty on her lips. Wiping the taste away, she realized she’d been crying, the tears running down her cheeks in two thin lines.  _ How long have I been crying?  _ she asked herself.

Claude narrowed his eyes for a moment, and then pushed himself to his feet. “Okay,” he said, stumbling towards his wyvern. He hauled himself into the saddle, wincing as the cut along his side rubbed against the saddlehorn. He readied to spur his wyvern into the air but paused before doing so. Byleth could almost feel time slow down around her as Claude reached his hand out towards her.

“Come with me, Teach.”

Byleth stared at him. Just moments ago, they’d been trying their best to kill each other. Well, Claude had, at least. She’d done her best to spare him, to make sure none of her strikes were fatal.  _ He saw right through me, _ she thought, her body feeling light and leaden at the same time. “Why…?” she muttered.  _ Did he always know? _

“You don’t want to be here, right? Take my hand. I’ll get you out of here.” Claude’s sharp voice shattered her reverie. He was right. The Imperial army was closing in on them. It was a miracle Byleth had gotten to him as quickly as she did. “Teach! If we’re gonna leave, it’s gotta be now.”

She could feel more tears forming in her eyes as she looked from his hand to his face. Claude had always styled himself the schemer, someone untrustworthy in the best of times. And yet, Byleth saw kindness in his brown eyes. Genuine kindness. There were no schemes or tricks here.

Her body trembled as she grasped his hand, as if the earth would fall out from under her if she moved too quickly. “Please,” she said, so quietly she may as well have just mouthed the words, “save me.”

Byleth slipped into a daze as Claude helped her into the saddle. A large part of her was simply waiting for this dream to end, to wake up back in Edelgard’s bed with tears in her eyes. The chill of the sea air as he spurred the wyvern to flight, the rush of wind that dampened Edelgard’s shrieks of horror, the warmth coming from Claude’s body as she wrapped her arms around his chest… None of it seemed real.

_ Just for a little while, _ she prayed,  _ let me enjoy this dream. _

* * * * * * * * * *

When Byleth awoke, she didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to confront the reality that she was back in Garreg Mach, wrapped in Edelgard’s iron embrace. She pulled the covers tighter around herself, willing her restless mind to go back to sleep.

_ I was having such a nice dream, too,  _ Byleth thought, her mind swaying between wakefulness and sleep.  _ Claude took me away from Edelgard, and we escaped to an Almyran camp… Can I go back to that dream? I don’t want to see Edelgard again just yet. _

But her mind simply wouldn’t settle. With every moment she tried returning to the blissful ignorance of sleep, Byleth grew more aware of her surroundings. Of the woolen blanket she cocooned herself in, of the warm light diffusing throughout the room, of the snapping of tent walls moving in the breeze.

Of the absence of another body in her bed.

Slowly, Byleth peeked out from behind the blanket and gasped when an unfamiliar sight greeted her eyes. She wasn’t in Edelgard’s room back in Garreg Mach. Instead, she found herself in a cot set up in a modest tent. Sunlight filtered through the light fabric of the tent walls, illuminating the rather sparse area one expected to find in a soldier’s sleeping quarters. And all of it had a distinctly non-Fodlani style to it.

“It… wasn’t a dream?” Byleth couldn’t believe it. “I’m… I’m free?”

She quietly slid out of bed, quickly realizing that someone had removed most of her clothing and folded it up on a small trunk beside the cot. Byleth felt a small wave of nausea at the thought of someone undressing her, but only her armor had been removed.  _ It was probably just so I could sleep better, _ she told herself.  _ It was just a courtesy. Nothing else. Nothing else... _

After taking a few breaths to calm down, Byleth went to put on her armor and noticed another stack of clothing beside it. A brief inspection showed that it was a clean set of breeches and a tunic, each with simple patterns woven into the hem that resembled the Almyran army’s uniform. There were no other cots in the tent, so Byleth could only assume that Claude had left it for her. A quick glance over her current attire -- blood-stained and torn in several places -- made her decision on what to wear an easy one.

Byleth was just adjusting the unfamiliar clothing to her comfort when a rhythmic thump on the tent flap drew her attention. “Morning, Teach,” Claude’s voice drifted into the tent. “Mind if I come in?”

“Good morning, Claude,” Byleth said automatically. “You… you can come in.”

She plopped back down on the cot as Claude slipped into the tent, a bowl of stew in one hand. The easy smile on his lips and his overall clean appearance made her wonder just how long she’d been asleep.

“You’re looking lovely this morning, as usual,” he said with a wink, handing the stew to her before sitting down in one of the few collapsable chairs laid down around the edge of the room. “Slept well, I assume?”

“I… yes.” The tangy smell wafting from the stew made her mouth water, but Byleth hesitated to start eating. Despite his jovial attitude, she wasn’t sure what their relationship was at the moment and whether it would be acceptable to stuff her face in his presence. “How… how long was I asleep?”

“All of last night and a good portion of this morning,” Claude answered, surprisingly straightforward despite his raised eyebrow. “Why do you ask? Worried you missed something?”

Byleth merely shook her head. She couldn’t tell him how she feared another five years passing while she slept. It would take too long to explain, if she could even find an explanation that made sense. But his answer eased the worry sitting heavy in her chest, and she let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe a little bit… I guess.” Her stomach finally growled in response to the food in her hands, and Byleth stiffened with embarrassment. “S-sorry. I… I haven’t been eating well recently.”

To his credit, Claude wasn’t fazed in the slightest by her body’s whining, instead waving a hand and giving her a slight grin. “All’s forgiven. Dig in! I already had lunch, and you’ll need your strength for today’s flight.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Byleth started shoveling the still steaming stew into her mouth. It was more sweet and tangy than the fare she was used to, with spices she couldn’t name. Under any other circumstance, Byleth would’ve taken her time eating the dish, savoring the unique flavors and creamy texture. But her body had gone nearly a full day without a full meal, and so she chewed it only enough to keep from choking before downing each bite.

Claude went over that day’s plan as she ate, confident in her ability to both eat  _ and _ listen. The army would pack up and move out as soon as possible and make a beeline for Fodlan’s Throat. They’d use the same pass they used to get to Derdriu, a winding road that only Almyrans would dare cross on horseback. It would be a day or two of forced marching to keep ahead of any potential pursuers, but once they reached Almyran soil…

Byleth could scarcely imagine it. Going beyond Fodlan’s borders… beyond the reach of the Empire… beyond Edelgard’s influence… It seemed so far away, and yet Claude was here, helping her make that dream a reality. She wondered, briefly, if it was safe to have hope again.

“Thank you. For everything.” The words escaped her lips softly after she finished off her meal. “You could’ve left me there. Fled by yourself.” Edelgard’s screams of rage echoed once more in her mind, and Byleth shivered. “You probably should have.”

Claude shrugged. “Probably. But I’m well acquainted with the look of someone who wants nothing more than to run.”

Byleth nodded slowly, wondering just how worn she must’ve looked for him to recognize her despair amidst the chaos of battle. Claude always seemed to be the perceptive sort, though she could tell there was something he was holding back. That yearning to know everything which had gotten him into so much trouble back in Garreg Mach.

“You know, I’m… I’m kind of surprised,” Byleth admitted softly. Claude raised an eyebrow but let her continue in her own time. It was a small courtesy, yet Byleth hadn’t realized until that moment how many times Edelgard had denied it to her. Swallowing the fear that always came with thoughts of her loving captor, she said, “I thought you’d ask about what happened to me by now. Why I was with… with Edelgard…”

Claude raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I’m curious, but I know when not to pry.”

“Didn’t stop you from stealing Dad’s journal,” Byleth mumbled just loud enough for him to hear.

“Ah. Right.” Claude rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Don’t think I ever apologized for that, so… I’m sorry. I was a real jerk back then.” After taking a deep breath, he sat back up, that bizarrely honest look in his eyes once more. “But I’m serious. I’ll happily listen to whatever you have to tell me, but I won’t pry. Edelgard did  _ something _ to you, and that’s all I need to know for now.”

A part of Byleth — a very loud, insistent part — told her to leave it at that. Claude knew what he needed to know, and so she shouldn’t offer up any further information. Edelgard’s punishment would be swift and vicious if she learned that Byleth spoke ill of their relationship. Linhardt’s eyes, sunken and bloodshot after days of being worked to the bone without sleep, swam through her mind’s eye, a harsh reminder of what would happen should anyone imply that their relationship wasn’t pure and loving. And Linhardt was a “friend”. Edelgard wouldn’t be so  _ merciful _ with Claude.

And yet…

“She dropped everything to care for me while I was comatose.”

Claude raised an eyebrow yet again, this time tilting his head too. “I’m sure there’s a reason you made that sound sinister, but that hardly seems like a bad thing.”

“I guess…” Byleth sighed, looking down into the empty bowl. “But she kept the war going for five years, purposefully at a stalemate… just so I could be at her side when she won.”

“Oh.” Claude leaned forward on his elbows, his attention completely focused on her. “That would explain why the Empire ignored us until a few months ago. I have a feeling that’s not the worst of her crimes against you, though. Am I right?”

Byleth nodded. She could almost feel Edelgard’s arms around her, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. She wanted to pour her heart out to Claude, to let someone else know just how much Edelgard had twisted the truth to keep her in line. “She… she thinks we’re lovers… and won’t listen to me when I say otherwise. She…” The rest of the words caught in her throat. The worry singing in the back of her mind grew too sharp and too real. Byleth couldn’t say anything else, lest Edelgard know how she’d betrayed her. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say anything else.”

Claude closed his eyes and hummed thoughtfully, as if it were the sound of his mental gears turning. “I’m starting to get the picture. It all lines up with what my spies reported. You were effectively a prisoner, right?”

“You knew?” Byleth didn’t mean for her question to come across as accusatory as it did, but she couldn’t keep all the bite out of her words.  _ How long has he known? Did he ever think to help? _

“I… had my suspicions,” Claude admitted slowly, flinching away from her hurt gaze as if it would burn him. “What I didn’t have was proof. After the first two spies died trying to obtain information on your situation, the other Alliance Lords decided it was too risky to determine what part you were playing in the war. You were a threat to the Alliance, and that’s all they needed to know.”

“Oh.” Whatever rage was burning in Byleth’s chest immediately went out.  _ Of course, _ she lamented, staring back down at her empty bowl.  _ The Alliance was officially neutral until we attacked. Why  _ would _ they spend resources rescuing an enemy tactician? Stupid Byleth… _

“Yeah. That’s how it is in the Alliance,” Claude continued, sitting back to his full height. “Nothing gets done unless the majority agrees, and I only really had Holst on my side. And even that was mostly because I’m his brother-in-law.” A dark shadow fell over his normally bright eyes, and the ever-present grin he wore slipped for the briefest moment. “Well… I  _ was _ his brother-in-law.”

Byleth was halfway across the room before she knew what she was doing. She let the flood of tears loose as she threw her arms around him, allowing her own sorrow to flow freely as she tried her best to comfort him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Claude. I couldn’t save her… I couldn’t…”

Claude stiffened briefly at the contact. Byleth was about to let go and apologize, but before she could pull away, he returned her embrace, cupping the back of her head as she sobbed into his shoulder. “Don’t think there was anything you could’ve done,” he said, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. Almost like he was on the verge of tears himself. “I told Hilda to retreat if things looked bad… I don’t understand why she didn’t.”

Byleth opened her mouth to answer, to provide a possible reason for Hilda’s uncharacteristic bout of bravery, but she stopped herself before a single sound passed her lips. No explanation would change what happened nor how Claude felt about it. So she simply continued holding him until both their tears dried up.

“Thanks,” Claude said as he broke the embrace. He quickly wiped away his tears, but the redness in his eyes wouldn’t be so easily banished. “Can’t remember the last time I had a cry like that.”

_ Me neither. _ Byleth kept that thought to herself. She wouldn’t burden Claude with more examples of Edelgard’s cruelty, though she couldn’t help but wonder what pressures had kept his tears at bay for so long. Instead, she quietly said, “You can cry on my shoulder any time you need. It’s the least I can do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes for a moment before flashing Byleth his trademark smile. “Anyway, we should probably get ready to move out. Don’t want to stay in Fodlan any longer than necessary.” Byleth stepped back as Claude hopped to his feet, once more the perfect image of the carefree prince. “Once you feel you’re ready, you should join me outside. An extra pair of hands never hurts.”

Byleth nodded and sank back onto the cot, the last of her tears still making their way down her cheeks. “I… I’ll do that. And… Claude?”

“Yeah?” He spared a glance back to her, halfway out the tent flap already.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you.” For the first time in months, Byleth was able to smile genuinely, even if it was no more than the quirk of her lips.

Claude responded in kind, his lackadaisical grin briefly making its way into his eyes. “Any time, Teach.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The attack came swiftly and without warning. One moment, Byleth was helping strap rolled up tents to saddlebags, and the next, she was cowering next to a crate, praying that the next Meteor struck somewhere far away from her. As the ash settled on her clothing, her eyes flicked across the camp, taking in the sudden confusion and panic. Soldiers reached for their weapons, taking to wing and saddle to fight this new foe.

Byleth felt she had to do something, to take up her sword and fight back against their assailants. And yet, in this chaos, she felt paralyzed, as if she were a cornered rabbit merely awaiting the arrival of hungry wolves. She covered her ears, as if that would make the assault any less real.

She was so wrapped up in her own fears that she didn’t even realize Claude had run over to her side until he gently pulled her hands away from her head. “You okay, Teach? It isn’t like you to freeze up.”

“I… I’m unhurt. Just… surprised?” Byleth took a deep breath, though that only seemed to make it worse. “What’s happening?” she cried. She knew, deep down, that they could only be under attack by one person, but she was so close to escaping Edelgard’s grasp, she didn’t want to admit it. “What do we do?”

Claude held her hands firmly, fixing her with a shadowed gaze. “The Imperial army caught up to us. Must’ve run their horses to death just to get here.” He grimaced and looked to the side, even the hint of a smile gone from his face. “Shit… I thought we’d have at least another day, but I underestimated Edelgard’s persistence.”

Byleth’s heart sank. Of course Edelgard wouldn’t give her up. She loved Byleth more than anything else. More than her friends. More than her ideals. More than winning the damn war she started. “She’s coming for me,” Byleth whimpered, trembling with the realization. “She… she’ll never let me go.”

“In that case, she’ll have to catch you first,” Claude said with a wry smirk. “I already lost Judith and Hilda. I’m not about to lose you, too.” He helped Byleth to her feet, and began leading her to his tent, where she knew his white wyvern was waiting for them. “Sadeek’s well rested today. We’ll be back in Almyra before Edelgard knows we’ve retreated.”

He spoke with such confidence that the shadow clouding Byleth’s mind dispersed at Claude’s words.  _ That’s right… We don’t need to win. We just need to survive. Not even Edelgard can risk invading Almyra.  _ The smallest ember of hope sparked to life in her chest, lending strength to her weary soul. Just one more sprint, and freedom would be hers.

Byleth felt her pulse speed up as they ran across camp. The smell of sulfur and ozone grew more potent as more fire and lightning fell from the sky, heralding the arrival of Imperial soldiers. Byleth only caught glimpses of them between the still standing tents, a wave of black armor crashing upon the underprepared Almyrans.

But the Imperial army would find them difficult prey, even caught off guard. While several Almyrans fell to a blade in the back, twice as many grabbed the nearest weapon at hand and rushed at their attackers. Byleth had only seen such fighting spirit in Caspar and Raphael, so it was little wonder the black-clad soldiers appeared startled at this unexpected resistance.

If Claude noticed any of this, he didn’t show it. He was singularly focused on picking a safe path to his wyvern, from whose back he’d be able to issue orders most effectively. Byleth stumbled along behind him, clutching his hand like a lifeline. She nearly laughed with relief when they rounded a corner and saw the majestic, white wyvern shaking an unfortunate, Imperial soldier in his jaws.

Despite the chaos going on around them, Sadeek cooed happily upon seeing his master return. He dropped the poor soldier to the ground, spreading his wings to hop over to Claude like some kind of oversized, scaly puppy.

But he didn’t get the chance to.

With a horrible shriek, a black wyvern swooped down, landing on Sadeek’s back and pinning him to the ground. It was a much stockier wyvern, bred for power over agility, and so easily held the smaller, Almyran beast under its bulk. Claude cried out in horror as this new foe clamped its jaws around Sadeek’s neck, keeping him from retaliating as the black wyvern’s rider slid from the saddle and began approaching. The rider’s crimson cloak billowed out behind her as she hefted her gruesome, twitching axe, blood already dripping from its jagged edge.

“There you are,” Edelgard growled, the entirety of her icy rage focused on Claude. “I knew you were the underhanded sort, but I never imagined you’d resort to kidnapping.”

Byleth could practically feel her freedom slipping away with every step. They were too close to run away, and without a mount to outpace Edelgard’s wyvern, they wouldn’t get far anyway. The only comfort Byleth felt was in the fact that Edelgard had yet to turn her fury on her, and even that was tainted with the knowledge of who was taking the brunt of her intense gaze instead.

While Byleth was frozen by the Flame Emperor’s mere presence, Claude gently pushed Byleth back and drew the only weapon he had on him. “My, what an honor. Emperor Edelgard herself has deigned to grace us with her presence,” he spat, brandishing his dagger as if it were a sword. “I must say, though, you have quite the odd definition of kidnapping. I wasn’t aware that giving a lift to a friend was against the law.”

Edelgard’s glare grew knife-sharp at his quip. “If your plan was to engage me in debate, then you will be sorely disappointed.” As she drew closer, Edelgard raised Aymr in preparation of a strike. “I will not parley with thieving outsiders.”

“Well now, that’s not very nice,” Claude said, glowering at the crimson-clad emperor before him. “I thought you styled yourself an ‘enlightened’ ruler, but I guess you can’t trust everything your spies tell you.”

If Edelgard’s glare was sharp before, Claude’s words turned her harsh gaze into a fiery rage. She didn’t bother with any more words, merely rushing forward the last few steps, aiming for her foe’s unprotected neck. He nimbly sidestepped her first swing, though, circling around her like a sly fox. Even with such a small blade, Claude only needed one good strike to end the fight.

Of course, Edelgard put so much power behind each blow that she only needed one hit as well. Claude seemingly danced around her, easily avoiding each wild swing, but Byleth could see that it wasn’t a dance he could keep up forever.

She wanted to move, to grab a weapon and give Claude the opening he needed to strike Edelgard down. But no matter how vividly she imagined blocking Aymr’s swings or pinning her garish cloak to the ground, Byleth’s body refused to obey her. A voice deep inside her kept whispering about what would happen if Edelgard won anyway. How she would lock Byleth in her room and keep her separated from everyone else she cared for. If she gave Edelgard any reason to think she might betray her, then Byleth feared she would never again see the light of day, locked away like a prized but fractious dog.

And so Byleth stood, frozen to the spot as she prayed for someone to find them and give Claude the assistance she couldn’t.

But only half her prayer was answered.

“Professor! Are you alright?”

Caught up in her fears and worries, Byleth didn’t notice Ferdinand approaching her until his hands were on her shoulders, gently urging her to face him. The moment he moved her from her petrified stance, the little composure she had left utterly shattered, and Byleth screamed. It was a raw sound, an amalgamation of the anger at her cowardice, the fear which kept her quiet, and the hope that now sat dead in her chest. Ferdinand stumbled back, eyes wide with shock and confusion, but the damage had already been done.

Claude whipped his head to see what danger had approached Byleth while his back was turned. “Teach--”

His worried cry was cut short, ending in a bloody cough as Aymr tore through his neck and embedded in his collarbone. For a moment, Byleth wondered if she somehow stopped time, as neither combatant moved, and even the wind seemed to disappear. But then Edelgard gave a sharp tug and yanked the axe from his chest, making Claude stagger back a few steps, leaving a trail of crimson splatter along the ground. As if in a trance, Claude looked down at his own mangled chest before falling to his knees.

“Claude!” The word tore itself from Byleth’s throat as Edelgard raised her bloodied blade high in the air. She knew it was too late to do anything, but her feet carried her forward regardless, making a mad scramble to get to Claude’s side.  _ Don’t leave me here! Please, Goddess, no! _

But she couldn’t answer her own prayer, and the fire in Edelgard’s eyes rivaled the blaze spreading throughout the camp in its intensity.

“This is your reward,” she said coldly, “for taking my teacher.”

But Aymr didn’t fall.

Byleth wouldn’t let it.

Time froze as she ordered it to stop. Nothing moved in that space between seconds, and the quiet there afforded her a moment to think.  _ Edelgard’s flying, so she’ll find us before we can escape, no matter where we go. Our only chance is to leave before the army arrives… _

She had never reversed time more than a few minutes, just enough to correct a mistake or two during battle, but there was nothing to lose by trying. Focusing on the world around her, Byleth willed it to move in reverse. Time resisted being pushed against its usual flow but slowly, the hands of the clock began to turn backwards, seemingly moving faster the further she went back.

Byleth tried to go back to breakfast, when they still had hours to prepare a swift retreat, but the strain was too much for her. Like rolling a snowball that had gotten too large, there was a point at which she couldn’t push any further back and let time resume its intended course. That moment turned out to be shortly after the attack began, when Claude found her cowering beside a crate.

“You okay, Teach? It isn’t like you to freeze up.”

This time, when her eyes met his, Byleth flung her arms around him.

Claude yelped as she pulled him into a hug but returned it instinctively. “Glad to see you, too, but we’ve got to move quickly.”

_ No, it’s already too late. I can’t escape Edelgard, but maybe you can.  _ Shaking her head, Byleth forced the words she needed to say past her lips. “I'm sorry, but you’ll have to leave without me.” She gave him one last squeeze before she let go, meeting his puzzled expression with a resigned smile. Despite his clear distress, the sight of Claude, alive and well, gave her the determination to see her plan through. “Edelgard will kill you if I try to flee. I’ll be back in her clutches today regardless, and I’d rather it not be over your corpse. So please, just leave without me.” Turning on her heel, Byleth started running towards the fighting, towards where Edelgard would likely be. She only spared a single glance back at her bewildered, would-be savior. “Thank you, Claude… and goodbye.”

* * * * * * * * * *

As she ran across camp, Byleth kept her eyes on the sky, searching for the black scales of Edelgard’s personal wyvern. It was a far more difficult task than anticipated, though, as the chaos around her proved a distraction she couldn’t afford to ignore. Several times, she was forced to backtrack to get around a particularly vicious fight or demolished tent.

But she knew what she had to do. Find Edelgard before she could find Claude. The determination to keep him safe -- to keep him alive -- imparted strength to her shaky limbs. She didn’t let herself think about what would happen once she was back in Edelgard’s arms…

It wasn’t the wyvern-riding emperor that Byleth found, though. Rounding a corner, she ran into Ferdinand who was, currently, without his usual horse. For a brief moment, the two merely stared at each other before recognition finally broke through the confusion of battle.

“Byleth?!” Dropping his lance in shock, Ferdinand gently grasped her shoulders, as if to verify what his eyes told him. “Are… are you hurt? Should I get you to a healer?”

“No,” Byleth shook her head, bracing against his chest for support. “No, I’m fine. Where… where’s Edelgard?”

She wasn’t sure what Ferdinand saw in her eyes, but whatever it was made him pause. “She is looking for you from the sky. Are you certain you don’t require a healer? You look rather pale.”

“I just need to get to Edelgard. Please.”

Mercifully, Ferdinand didn’t push for an explanation. Instead, he pulled a small, tin whistle from his coat and blew a long, piercing note. Within a matter of minutes, the sound of heavy wingbeats drew near, and Edelgard’s black steed appeared out of the smoke like a wraith.

Byleth let out a sigh of relief as the black wyvern touched down and allowed Edelgard to dismount, Aymr still in hand. Her freedom slipped away with every step the crimson-clad emperor took towards her, but Byleth took solace knowing that Claude had ample time to retreat. Slowly, she let go of Ferdinand’s arm and flung herself into Edelgard’s expectant embrace.

“Oh, my teacher,” Edelgard said softly, stroking Byleth’s hair with her free hand. “I’m glad we were able to catch up with you. I feared Claude would’ve spirited you further away.” That softness immediately vanished, as if the mere idea of the Almyran prince stunk up the air. “What foul perversions has he visited upon you? I shall make sure he pays for every last one of them.”

Byleth winced as Edelgard tightened her grip, tugging at her hair almost sharply. “Nothing!” she gasped, unsure if she could temper Edelgard’s anger but hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. “He didn’t do anything to me. Please, I just… I just want to go home. With you.”

“Of course you do.” The certainty in Edelgard’s voice made Byleth’s stomach turn, but there was little she could do to contradict her without inviting retribution. She didn’t even have time to nod before Edelgard continued, “And we will, just as soon as I’ve taken care of Claude.”

“What?” Byleth had hoped her presence would dissuade Edelgard from continued pursuit, but apparently that alone wasn’t enough. “N-no, you don’t have to do that! Claude’s no threat at all. Hardly worth your time. Please, let’s… let’s just go home.” Without giving herself time to think, Byleth wrapped her arms around Edelgard’s shoulders and brought her into a deep kiss. If she could keep her distracted, then maybe -- just maybe -- she could convince her to order a withdrawal.

Edelgard tensed up for a split second before returning the kiss. It was brief, even by her standards, though, and when she pulled away, she raised a curious eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you, my teach--?”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her question, as a harsh screech pierced the air, cutting through the cacophony of carnage around them. Everyone turned to the source just in time to see a white wyvern fly through the smoke and land right in front of them. The beast growled and snarled at the gathered soldiers, an action mirrored by his rider as he leveled Failnaught at Edelgard’s head.

“Let her go!” Claude demanded. “Now!”

_ No, no, no no nonono! _ Byleth’s mind whirled faster and faster, desperate to avoid the confrontation barrelling towards them. _ Why are you still here? I told you to leave! Why didn’t you leave?! _

All around them, soldiers turned their weapons towards the sudden aggressor, but none dared engage him. Claude was within spitting distance of their Emperor, far enough for an arrow to be deadly but close enough that dodging was useless.

For her part, Edelgard turned to meet Claude’s gaze, undaunted by the arrow trained on her. Any softness in her expression vanished, consumed by the quiet rage Byleth feared more than any spoken threat. “So, the thief finally shows his true colors,” Edelgard stated so confidently it almost sounded true. “You mean to steal my teacher from me again. A bold move, but this greed of yours will be your death.”

“Better a thief than a tyrant,” he spat back, the venom in his words dulled somewhat by the threat of tears. “Now let Teach go, or the Empire’s gonna have a succession crisis on their hands.”

Edelgard just chuckled. “I won’t bargain with those who stoop to threats of violence. If you insist on threatening my life, then I’ll be forced to act in kind. And if we fight, you will lose.”

“If I may?” Ferdinand spoke up, as eloquent and diplomatic as ever. His genial voice cut through most of the tension that hung in the air. “Duke Riegan, please consider your position carefully. There’s nothing to be gained from threatening Her Majesty’s life, as Professor Byleth is unlikely to stay with you willingly. I saw her fight through this camp just to return to Lady Edelgard. But if you withdraw now, we will not pursue.”

In that moment, Byleth had never felt more glad to have Ferdinand at her side. She didn’t care if he knew her plan or not; he was offering Claude an out. Edelgard gave him a cutting glare for undermining her authority, but she’d never admonish him in public for such an act, and Byleth could shield him from the emperor’s pride far more easily than Claude.

But Claude clearly wasn’t having it.

“Why don’t you let Byleth choose what I do, then?” Claude snapped, before shifting his gaze to Byleth. “C’mon, Teach. I’m not leaving without you.”

“No!” Byleth yelled, her voice hoarse with unshed tears. Despite how much she might wish to take his hand again, Edelgard wouldn’t let her go. Claude would either escape alone or die. All Byleth could do was convince him to choose the former. “Just go away and leave me alone! I never want to see you again!”

Claude visibly flinched back, eyes wide in utter shock. “Teach… what--?”

“I SAID LEAVE!!!”

In that moment, Byleth swore the world stood still. No one moved, and the clash of spells and swords sounded far away. Claude met her gaze, wordlessly searching for the truth. Byleth could only hope he found it, that he saw how she wanted him to live to fight another day.  _ Perhaps, one day, you’ll find a way to spirit me away from this prison, _ she hoped. _ But not today. Please. El won’t hurt me, so just go. _

After several tense moments that felt like hours, he nodded. “As you wish,” he said softly. “Goodbye, Teach.”

Byleth breathed a sigh of relief as Claude lowered Failnaught and ordered Sadeek to turn and take off again. With the tiniest of smiles on her face, she looked back to Edelgard. “See, El? He’s no threat. He’s smart enough to know when he’s lost.”

However, Edelgard’s eyes never left Claude, still scrutinizing his every action. “Yes. He is rather clever.”

The sheer coldness in her voice chilled Byleth to the bone. It made every fiber of her being shout that something was wrong, that the battle wasn’t over yet. It was the same instinct that saved her life so many times during her mercenary days, and with dawning horror, Byleth realized it had been shouting at her ever since she fell into Edelgard’s arms.

In one fluid motion, Edelgard raised Aymr above her head.

“ _ El, WAIT! _ ” But Byleth couldn’t untangle herself from Edelgard’s one-armed embrace in time to stop her.

With a savage grunt of effort, Edelgard let the grotesque axe fly from her hand. It spun once, twice… then found its target.

Sothis’s words echoed in her mind.  _ “If turning back the hands of time was not enough to save him, then you must accept that what came to pass was fate.” _

_ No! _ Byleth tried to scream but not even a whimper passed her lips, as if keeping silent would change what just happened. But nothing could change how Claude slipped from his saddle and tumbled to the ground, Aymr embedded in his spine.

Sadeek immediately landed, confused by the sudden lack of rider, and turned back towards where his master lay in a growing pool of blood. The white wyvern cooed softly and nudged Claude with the tip of his snout, like a hen urging her hatchlings to stand.

_ But Claude won’t ever stand again. _ Byleth let her tears flow freely, the only action left to her in her fear-induced paralysis. As the edges of her vision began to blur, she could only think about how things could’ve been different. How she could’ve prevented all this death and destruction.  _ If I hadn’t taken his hand, then El wouldn’t have followed him… If it weren’t for me, Claude would still be alive. _

Red fabric engulfed Byleth as Edelgard fully embraced her. The scent of sweat and smoke nearly choked her, a harsh reminder of how the Crimson Emperor pushed her army to near exhaustion to recapture her “true love”. But Edelgard hardly seemed to notice, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair as Byleth sank to the ground. “You’re safe now, my teacher,” she said, the command in her voice brooking no argument to the contrary. “That underhanded snake will never again threaten you nor keep you from my side.”

Byleth nodded automatically. Claude said he’d take her to safety, but Edelgard had caught up to them regardless. The health and wellbeing of the Imperial army was secondary to keeping Byleth firmly within the Emperor’s influence, and now she knew that would always be the truth. Edelgard would never allow for even the tiniest possibility otherwise. “I’ll never leave your side ever again,” Byleth murmured despondently. “I can’t leave you…”

If Edelgard heard the sorrow in her voice, she didn’t show it. “Oh, my teacher… I swear I will make it so. You--”

Whatever grandiose promise she wanted to make was cut short by an enraged roar. Sadeek finally realized his beloved master was dead and rounded on the red-clad emperor, snarling and baring his teeth.

Edelgard huffed in annoyance, as if the wyvern were interrupting a precious moment with the most trivial of concerns. “Someone put a muzzle on that beast!” she ordered, her voice carrying the threat of what would happen otherwise. “It will be a fine trophy for today’s victory!”

As a handful of soldiers rushed forward to obey her command, Edelgard swept Byleth up into her arms. She carried Byleth over to her black wyvern, away from the chaos unfolding around camp. “Now then, my teacher,” Edelgard said sweetly, the battle already a distant memory left for her subordinates to deal with, “let’s get you out of those filthy rags and into something more comfortable.”

Byleth didn’t even bother nodding. Nothing she said would matter anyway, and she was suddenly too tired to move. Her strength -- and will -- had died with Claude, and Byleth couldn’t even mourn his death properly. All she could offer was a silent prayer, begging for his forgiveness.


	3. Shifting Tides

“Petra, are you free right now?”

Petra turned around to see Byleth jogging up. She had her usual, slight smile that somehow failed to reach her eyes. A side-effect of her dampened emotions, she often said. Nothing to worry about. So Petra offered a warm smile in return. “I would be liking to say yes, but I am fearing I do not understand the question.” Surely Byleth knew that she wasn’t staying in Fodlan of her own volition.

Byleth paused for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she thought before nodding. “Right. I’m asking if you’re doing anything right now. If not, I’d like to invite you to tea.”

A wide smile spread across Petra’s face. “Of course! I do not have -- how do you say it? -- business, so I would be liking that greatly.”

For the briefest of seconds, Byleth’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful! I have some Almyran pine needles I’ve been wanting to try.”

They made their way to the dorms, to the furthest room on the first floor that Byleth had used since first coming to Garreg Mach. Inside, she already had a small table and chairs set up, which Petra gratefully took as Byleth set about making tea. As the water boiled and the tea leaves steeped, the two women chatted about their activities, what they did between the many battles they engaged in under the Empire’s banner.

Halfway through explaining why she would no longer take Dorothea flying when they wanted a nice picnic, Petra caught the hint of pain in Byleth’s eyes.  _ That’s… odd,  _ she thought, taking a long sip of tea to give herself the time to word her next question. “Professor, you are looking like you are sad. Is something being the matter? Is your… captivity with Claude still bringing you worry?”

Byleth froze for the briefest moment, and then her impassive face returned. “No, I’m fine. I’m overjoyed to be back with Edelgard.” Her answer was far too stiff and rehearsed to be genuine, even by Byleth’s standards. And as she watched, Petra saw her features tense, as if holding back some distressing thoughts.

“I am sorry, but that is not sounding true.” Petra sat her teacup down, though her eyes never strayed from Byleth’s. She may not have a perfect grasp on the language of Fodlan, but fear was universal, and it was etched into every inch of Byleth’s usually inexpressive face. “What is being the problem, Professor?”

“I’m just tired.” Exhaustion would explain why her hands shook as she lifted the teacup to her lips, but it was unlikely given her energy during that morning’s sparring practice.

“No…” Slowly, Petra took the cup from Byleth’s hand before she spilled the hot liquid everywhere. “You are being like a rabbit in a snare, staying still to hope the wolf is not seeing you. Let me hunt this wolf for you.”

“No, don’t,” Byleth said, far too quickly to be anything but a warning. For just a moment, the false smile dropped, and Byleth truly looked like a frightened animal, eyes wide and darting everywhere, searching for an enemy she knew was nearby. But then she froze, closing her eyes, and when she opened them, that damned smile was back. “I mean, you don’t have to do that for me. It really is just work.”

Shifting from her chair, Petra knelt beside her trembling friend and held her hands. “Professor… if you are fearing eyes and ears, then know I am the only eyes and ears here.”

Byleth swallowed heavily, her eyes darting from the curtained window to the locked door. Whatever she was looking for, it was apparently enough for her to drop her smile once more and grip Petra’s hands as if they were the only thing keeping her on the ground. “I…” she began before leaning in close and whispering, “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to support this war. I never wanted it to start at all. I never should have defended her, never tried to talk her down.”

“Then why—?”

Byleth shook her head so swiftly it appeared as if a shiver had gone down her body. “I can’t… Petra, I can’t leave. She’s always… always  _ there _ . And… and the rare times she’s not, then  _ he’s _ watching me… or one of the others is. This is the only place I can get away, and even then…”

She glanced over to a corner of the room full of various supplies and small crates. It took Petra a moment to realize what Byleth was actually looking at. Her room didn’t have a bed. Petra’s gaze darted over the room, taking in every little detail just as she would if hunting a wounded panther. No bed, no desk, no personal touches… even the small table and chairs they were using were just some brought in from the gardens. This was Byleth’s room… but it wasn’t  _ Byleth’s  _ room.

“She asked me to move in with her, and I couldn’t say no,” Byleth whispered. Then, even more quietly if that was possible, she added, “No, I could've… but I didn’t want to know what she’d do if I had.”

Petra gave Byleth’s hands a firm squeeze. For so long, she’d thought Byleth to be this dauntless warrior, a fearless champion who supported everyone around her with strength and compassion. Petra could hardly imagine anyone shaking her the way she was now, nearly to the point of tears, and yet the evidence before her was undeniable. Somehow, Edelgard had trapped Byleth, making her play the part of a smitten lover against her own wishes.

It wasn’t love. Petra cursed herself for not noticing sooner, for not seeing how Edelgard had her claws around Byleth, making a personal cage with her presence. She wouldn’t accept any criticism regarding her relationship, even from Byleth herself, and any attempts to say they weren’t the most romantic couple in Adrestia were met with disdain at best. And at worst...

_ This is not a happy love. It is not the love of sun and moon,  _ she thought.  _ It is the love of an eagle for the rabbit in its talons. There must be something I can do, some way to pry Edelgard’s grasp away.  _ “Byleth, tell me what you are needing of me.”

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. A few tears slipped out of her eyes, and Petra gently wiped them away. For Byleth to be so sad and overwhelmed that she actually cried, her pain must’ve been far beyond what Petra could imagine. After all, the only other time she saw the professor cry was after her father’s murder.

“I am by your side. If you are needing something -- anything -- do not be hesitating to ask for my help.” Petra prayed to the spirits of the earth and sky that there was something she could do, some way for Byleth to be free.

But she wasn’t hopeful. Petra knew firsthand how difficult it was to escape the Empire, especially if the Emperor didn’t want one to leave. Too many times, Petra felt the sting of a backhanded slap for daring to defy her captors’ orders. Too many times, she’d been locked in her room for having the audacity to attempt escape. And those had been during a time of peace. In the middle of a war...

She didn’t want to consider what punishments would await Byleth if she tried anything similar. Thinking back on it, one of their friends had already been hurt for making a joke. Just a few months prior, Linhardt was lamenting how hard it was to have a conversation with Byleth without Edelgard hovering nearby and made an offhand comment about how Edelgard had basically turned their professor into a meek piece of arm candy. The very next day, Edelgard ordered him to find a way to replicate Heroes Relics, saying that it was of utmost importance to expand their arsenal of weapons. No one saw him for a couple days afterward. When Linhardt finally came back from whatever alcove he secluded himself in, he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He wouldn’t say why, and everyone just assumed he got lost in his research and forgot to sleep. Now, Petra saw it for what it was: a punishment for getting too close to the truth.

Petra opened her mouth to offer some more kind words, but a sharp rap on the door made both women jump. Byleth had her fake smile back on in an instant, even before their visitor made her identity known.

“My teacher, are you in there?”

Byleth bent down briefly to whisper in Petra’s ear. “Get back in your seat. This is a normal tea party.” Leaning back into her chair, she picked up her teacup as if nothing had happened. “Just having tea,” she called, turning her attention back to the door. “Felt like sharing those pine needles with Petra.”

The door opened without invitation, and Petra practically threw herself into the chair to feign innocence. She briefly considered picking up her teacup but didn’t trust herself not to tremble in rage. Knowing what she did now, Petra couldn’t even muster a fake smile for their uninvited guest.

Edelgard strode into the room, decked in her blood-red regalia as she often was those days. Her eyes immediately went to Petra, as if to verify the authenticity of Byleth’s claim, nodding when she saw it was true. “Ah, hello, Petra. I trust you’ve been doing well. Please forgive me for interrupting your chat, but when my teacher didn’t show up to our teatime, I grew quite concerned.”

Petra found her eyes glued to Edelgard, observing her as closely as she dared. There wasn’t a single trace of worry in the emperor’s brow nor hint of labored breathing in the way her chest rose and fell. Even if the concern was only small, Edelgard would’ve shown some sign of panic. Petra wanted to confront her about the real reason she interrupted them, but the image of Byleth’s eyes, wide with fear, kept her tongue in check. “I am doing well,” she said carefully. “The concern is… appreciated.”

“I’m sorry, El.” Byleth’s voice was calm and warm as she looked up at her captor, as if she hadn’t been on the verge of tears mere moments before. It was like she was an actor in one of Dorothea’s operas… putting on a false smile for the audience as she took the stage. “As you can see, I’m fine, so there’s no need to worry. I suppose I was just a bit too excited to share the new tea, and I just… forgot.”

Edelgard sighed softly and stepped to Byleth’s side. “All is forgiven. A slight delay won’t make the company any less sweet… though the tea I made will likely be cold. I’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re done here.”

With that, Edelgard smiled and bent down to place a kiss on Byleth’s cheek, casually threading her fingers in her pale green hair. Byleth smiled and laughed softly at the affection. At a glance, they were simply two women in love, but Petra wasn’t just glancing anymore. Now she saw how Byleth stiffened the moment Edelgard touched her, how her hands clenched at the kiss. Petra noticed that Edelgard never completely closed her eyes, watching to see that Petra saw her intimate display. With growing horror, Petra realized it wasn’t a comforting or affectionate act.

It was possessive.

Petra dug her fingers into her thighs, furious that Edelgard would be so blatant with her dominance. If they were in Brigid, she would’ve pinned the emperor’s hand to the floor with her knife for giving an unwanted touch. Edelgard would be shamed and sent away, to earn the people’s trust back with hard work and humility. But this was Fodlan. If Petra did such a thing here, then only she and Byleth would be the ones to suffer the emperor’s wrath.

“I’ll join you soon,” Byleth said lovingly, though the tension in her posture screamed that she’d rather be anywhere else. “I promise.”

That seemed to be enough for Edelgard, as she smiled gently. “That’s good to hear. And Petra?” Her voice lost the dreamy quality it had while speaking with Byleth, the words turning to steel the moment she looked back to the Brigid princess. “Try not to keep her too long.”

Petra merely nodded, not trusting her words to hide her newfound loathing. The tea biscuits soured in her stomach as Edelgard strode out of the small room, Hubert falling into step behind her. She wondered just how long he’d been standing outside the door and made a mental note to sleep with a dagger under her pillow. For several long minutes after they were left alone, Petra and Byleth sat still, neither speaking nor moving until the shifting of unbalanced sugar cubes broke the unnerving silence.

Byleth closed her eyes and slumped back with a heavy sigh. “I… I shouldn’t keep her waiting,” she said timidly.

“But Edelgard was the one who was interrupting our tea time. Should she not be the one waiting around our time together?”

Never before had Byleth seemed so small, the tiniest of smiles on her lips as a sign of resignation. “The Emperor comes second to no one,” she muttered before shaking her head. “It’s fine, Petra. I should’ve remembered anyway.” Suddenly, Byleth stood up and took a few steps towards the door, glancing behind to see if Petra would follow suit. “Thank you for coming over, and for listening to me complain. It… it was really kind of you.”

Petra grit her teeth at the defeat she heard in Byleth’s voice. Without hesitation, she went to embrace her, pulling Byleth close to her chest like a cherished sister. “I will listen to as much complaining as you are needing to do, Professor.”

Byleth said nothing for the longest time, and then, with trembling hands, she returned Petra’s embrace. “Thank you, Petra… so, so much. I would like to have you over again… Maybe when I have more time.” Her voice was so soft, shaking with the effort of holding back tears.

“I would be liking that,” Petra reassured her, patting her shoulder as they left the room that was no longer Byleth’s. “Anytime you are needing me, I will be with you.”

For the first time that day, Petra saw a genuine smile cross Byleth’s face. In that moment, Petra made a promise to herself.

_ I will stand by your side, Professor. Just like you stood by mine. As the sun rises, as the moon wanes, as the tides shift, I will protect you. And if I see a path that leads you to freedom, I will make sure you can take it. This I swear. _

* * * * * * * * * *

The battle had been long, but the Empire stood victorious. Rhea and her knights had withdrawn the moment Dimitri fell, joining his generals who were too injured to continue the fight. Now came the ugly side of battle… the clean-up. That time following a bloody clash in which the victors went about slitting the throats of any enemy bodies, just in case one still happened to be breathing.

Byleth never took part in it herself; she hadn’t the stomach. Yet something pulled her towards the stone dias, where Edelgard had beaten the Tempest King. She slowly ascended the stone steps, though she didn’t know why. Dimitri wasn’t one to go down easily, so there was only one thing that could happen there, with the rain and lightning providing a backdrop of sorrow. Byleth didn’t want to see this, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from taking a look.

Dimitri was on his hands and knees before Edelgard, Areadbhar kicked far from his reach. Even from a distance, Byleth could see the shine of tears on his cheeks as he demanded answers, his voice threatening to crack with every word. “Edelgard! You… I will kill you!” he roared, like a wounded lion before a slowly approaching poacher.

Edelgard, however, regarded him calmly, as if they hadn’t just been fighting to the death mere moments before. “Your obsession with me is appalling,” she spat, the disgust clear in her voice. “If you were a normal human, you would most certainly have died already.”

_ You say that as if you weren’t an “abnormal human”, _ Byleth thought, Creator Sword clutched loosely in her hand.  _ But that would make you the same as him, and you have to be special, don’t you, El? _

“If only we were born in a time of peace,” Edelgard continued, raising Aymr high, “you might have lived a joyful life as a benevolent ruler.”

_ But… we were.  _ Byleth swayed, like a leaf in the wind. She could turn around, leave Dimitri to the fate Edelgard chose for him. It made her sick to her stomach, but what else could she do? She couldn’t stop the Emperor. She couldn’t even slow her down.

“Farewell, King of Delusion.”

_ No. _

Byleth charged forward, unsure what power allowed her feet to free themselves from inaction. All she knew was that she had to move, had to get to his side. It was stupid. Reckless. Right.

The sword fell from her grasp, clattering to the ground across Areadbhar. A fitting place for such instruments of death, soulless things that could do nothing but kill. They were just weapons. Like her.

But not like Dimitri.

“To the fires of hell with you… El…” He looked so sad as the axe fell.

Time seemed to slow beyond Byleth’s control, but that didn’t matter as she slid to a stop between the rulers of crimson and azure. Edelgard’s eyes widened in horror as Aymr bit into Byleth’s chest instead of Dimitri’s neck. She tried to divert her strike, but it was too little too late.

Even as the pain flared in her chest, from shoulder to waist, Byleth felt a genuine smile grace her lips. The world started to blur, darkness creeping in at the edges, but all she could think as she fell was how happy she was.

_ Thank goodness. I didn’t fail this time. I saved him… Father… I’ll see you… soon... _

* * * * * * * * * *

_ Father, I’m sorry. I’ve failed you. _

Dimitri cursed every star he was born under. How many times had Edelgard -- no, the Flame Emperor -- been at his mercy? How many times had he disarmed her and held the blade to her throat, only to withdraw and say “good match”? If only one --  _ one _ \-- of those times, he’d been a little more careless, then he wouldn’t now be at the mercy of a monster in crimson clothing.

“To the fires of hell with you…” he spat out between gritted teeth. He wanted to curse the skies and the earth. He wanted to curse the heavens. He wanted to curse the very Goddess herself for turning her back on those screaming for justice. But more than anything else, he wanted to curse the little girl he’d been so fond of all those years ago. “El…”

The axe fell, and Dimitri refused to look away. He would meet his death with as much dignity as he could manage while crawling on the ground. He would not give Edelgard the satisfaction of seeing his spirit broken.

Dimitri expected pain and then nothingness.

He did not expect a flutter of gray cloth and green hair to seemingly materialize between him and the axe. Someone had jumped between him and his executioner.

Dimitri’s mind went blank. He’d been cut off from his soldiers. Dedue had forfeited his humanity to a Crest stone.  _ Then who…? _ he thought wearily as the figure fell back towards him, and Edelgard pulled the jagged blade from their chest. His body moved of its own accord, pushing his burning muscles to catch his savior before they hit the ground, and his heart seized as he beheld Byleth’s faint but genuine smile.

“No!” The panicked shout burned Dimitri’s ears, and he snapped his gaze back to the bloody Emperor before him. She hardly seemed to notice him, though, her wide-eyed gaze flicking between Byleth and nearby troops. “Healer! Someone get a healer! If she dies, it’s on  _ your heads _ !” There was a frantic scramble among the ranks as seemingly everyone tried to follow her order, a state made worse when she whirled around and continued threatening to behead anyone who failed. Her back was to Dimitri, forgotten even as the source of her terror bled to death in his arms.

_ “Finish the job,”  _ Dimitri’s ghosts howled from the plains, their voices rising from both enemy and ally corpses alike.  _ “Break her spirit, then break her neck!” _

Dimitri glanced between Areadbhar and the woman in his arms. How easy it would be, to cast Byleth aside and impale the Flame Emperor upon his father’s lance. He could end this pointless war and appease the voices in one fell swoop. But only at the cost of Byleth’s life.

She struggled for breath, but she was still breathing. A skilled healer might have a chance to mend the wound before it claimed her. However, time was not on his side in that regard. And he had little faith that the terrified troops would be able to find a suitable healer before she expired.

Edelgard or Byleth. Revenge or mercy. Hate or…

Love?

Back when peace reigned, Dimitri had loved Byleth. What started as a childish wish bloomed into something greater… until she chose to stand at Edelgard’s side. He thought he’d excised that weed from his heart long ago, but a seed must have remained, dormant until that very moment.

No, he couldn’t let her die. Not after she just saved his life. Pushing his weary body once more, Dimitri lifted Byleth into his arms and staggered as fast as he could away from the crimson-clad emperor. That seemed to break Edelgard from her single-minded panic, screaming in rage as he carried her beloved teacher further from her side. Imperial soldiers surrounded the dais Edelgard confronted him upon, but Dimitri didn’t care. He’d wade through the entire army if it meant a chance to repay Byleth’s surprising kindness. A couple brave Adrestians charged him as Edelgard screeched at the top of her lungs to stop the Faerghus king.

Dimitri shifted Byleth to one arm. The sound of a broken helmet and crushed skull was all it took for the rest of those “brave souls” to drop their swords and flee. But he didn’t bother keeping track of them. All that mattered at the moment was getting himself and Byleth to safety.

And to do that, he’d have to make it back to his army. What remained of it, at least.

But they were so far away, and his legs were beginning to burn, and another battalion of soldiers was sure to try attacking him again. Dimitri was practically running on his Crest strength alone; he couldn’t handle more fighting.

A wyvern’s cry stopped him dead in his tracks. Looking towards the sound, Dimitri saw the scaly beast and its rider approaching with alarming speed. He readied himself for one last fight, though he held no illusions about his ability to fight off a wyvern in this state.

“I’m sorry, Byleth,” he panted, laying a hand on her head. “I tried.”

_ “You moron!”  _ King Lambert’s ghost shouted from the darkness.  _ “You wasted your one chance to kill that bitch!” _

_ “You should’ve stuck to being a boar,”  _ Felix’s voice hissed in the rain.  _ “Look what your bleeding heart has done. You’ll die while Edelgard lives. What a joke…” _

“Can you fly?”

Dimitri didn’t recognize that voice from the choir of ghosts. Looking to the source, he was shocked to see the wyvern rider had called to him. Not only that, the rider landed her beast beside him, her sword still in its sheath. For a moment, Dimitri wondered why an Imperial soldier would approach him so… peacefully. But realization struck as he saw her striking burgundy hair and foreign tattoos.

“Petra? You’re still with the Empire?”

Swinging her legs out of the saddle, Petra landed gracefully in the mud, reins still in hand. “Can you fly wyvern-back?”

Dimitri slowly nodded. “I… know the basics…”

“That is being enough.” Without hesitation, she strode towards him -- an enemy king -- and placed the reins in his free hand. “You will be leaving swiftly. There is being no faster wyvern in Brigid than my Diarmuid.”

“Why are you…?”

Petra huffed and began pushing him towards the saddle. “The Professor is being safer with you. Now, go! GO!”

Dimitri felt more exhausted than ever, but he managed to haul himself and Byleth onto the wyvern’s back. It was a far cry from the horses he was used to riding, though he supposed beggars couldn’t afford to be choosy. He spared one last glance at the brave, foreign princess before spurring Diarmuid to take off. As the wyvern beat its powerful wings, carrying them further from the battlefield with every breath, Dimitri uttered a prayer to the Goddess to watch over Petra. To protect her in a place the spirits of her homeland couldn’t reach.

_ Good luck, old friend. I pray we meet again on the other side of this war. _


	4. The Consequence of Betrayal

Edelgard paced at the edge of the dais, the blood soaking her regalia near invisible against the bright red fabric. She thought the battle over, that the only thing that needed doing was the gruesome work of clean-up, and yet…

That  _ monster _ got away. He fled like the wounded animal he was. That alone wouldn’t have been so bad. Edelgard knew the lair he would flee to; all she needed to do was follow him there. No, what set her blood boiling was how he’d  _ taken her _ . He took her teacher, stole  _ her _ teacher. And that would not -- could not -- stand.

Edelgard ordered anyone who could hear to pursue them, to take down the wyvern that beastly king somehow acquired. Once they decided to actually listen to her orders, however, an injured but mounted mage rode along the frontline, not casting spells but… sighing. The significance of that act didn’t grace her mind until a swarm of wolves and vultures surged in from all sides and began devouring anyone within sight. A scant few cavalrymen made it past the wave of teeth and talons, but most of those who tried — those loyal men and women who risked everything for her new world — perished by the dozens to that monster-calling hag’s beasts. Such noble sacrifices and yet ultimately in vain, as Dimitri was long gone, nowhere to be seen.

And so was Byleth.

_ Don’t despair, my teacher. I will not let that beast sully you with his filthy paws, _ Edelgard silently swore as the rest of the Black Eagles approached her for further orders.  _ I will tear the city apart, brick by brick if I must. _ She nearly didn’t notice her former classmates nearing the dais until she felt a bony hand on her shoulder.

“Lady Edelgard.” Hubert’s even tone yanked her back to reality, where she stood amid the carnage and blood-soaked mud of battle. “You called for a healer. Are you… You’re not injured, are you?” The genuine concern in his voice might’ve been touching in any other circumstance, but right then, it only served to stoke the fires of her indignity.

“I’m fine,” Edelgard snapped, turning to see Linhardt swiftly approaching, with Caspar hot on his heels. “My teacher is the one who requires healing, but you’ve arrived too late to make any difference.”

“I can see that,” Linhardt sighed as slowed to a halt. He quite conspicuously placed himself beyond her weapon’s reach, as if he knew what fury his inaction stirred in the red emperor. “What I don’t see is why you called me over to heal someone who isn’t here.”

Edelgard could almost feel her blood begin to boil.  _ How can they remain so calm? Do they not care that Byleth was taken? _ She took a deep breath; yelling at Linhardt was generally not very effective. “She  _ was _ here,” Edelgard said slowly, “before Dimitri took her.”

“Dimitri?! Did I hear that right?” Ferdinand’s obnoxious voice cut through the silence as he ascended the dais. “I thought we had him cornered. How could he possibly escape, much less with the professor?”

_That’s what I’d like to know,_ Edelgard fumed, stalking across the dais as the rest of her classmates caught up. Dimitri left on wyvern-back, but none of his soldiers rode wyverns. No, they preferred horses and pegasi. That left only one option. Dimitri got the creature from one of her soldiers. She hadn’t seen a struggle, though. Just the wyvern landing, then taking off with a different rider. _Who could let that monster take their mount so easily?_ _I’ll have to account for all the sky corps’ riders… See who betrayed me…_

It would probably be easy. After all, not many wyverns had such distinctive, red stripes as…

Edelgard stopped and turned on her heel, glaring at Hubert. “Where is Petra?”

“I am being right here.”

Edelgard slowly turned to face the voice. There was Petra, striding confidently up the dais with her head held high. Behind her, two soldiers practically ran to keep up, lances pointed towards the foreign princess as if she were a dangerous criminal. And, in a sense, she was. Petra stopped at the edge of the dais, staring down Edelgard as though they were equals.

Dorothea nearly wept in relief, leaping into Petra’s embrace and kissing her deeply. The rest of the Eagles expressed their own relief, with only Ferdinand questioning the need for an armed escort.

Edelgard paid no heed to them. Petra didn’t arrive on wyvern-back, all but confirming her suspicions. “I have a question for you,” she said slowly. “And think carefully before you answer… Did you allow King Dimitri to leave the battlefield with your wyvern?”

The silence which followed was deafening. Petra glared at Edelgard, her defiance unmistakable as she stepped forward, putting herself between the emperor and her lover. Dorothea, and the rest of the Black Eagles, shared a confused and horrified look as the pieces fell into place.

Before anyone else could give voice to their concerns, however, Petra uttered a single word. “Yes.”

Edelgard barely heard her friends’ surprised gasps over the pounding of her heart. Up until that very moment, she held the smallest hope that her deduction was wrong. She had always felt a sort of camaraderie with Petra, both being the heirs to their respective nations. To hear her admit to her betrayal, to proudly declare that she allowed one of their greatest enemies to escape… It made her blood boil. Edelgard clenched her fists around Aymr’s handle, feeling the relic sing in harmony with her accursed Crest, calling for traitor’s blood to be spilled.

“So… you admit that you betrayed the Empire?” Edelgard could barely keep her simmering rage from bursting forth right then. In her hands, Aymr began to glow a hateful red, saying what she could not lest her veneer of calm slip. “I’m disappointed, Petra. I truly believed you were smarter than that. Now, you’ll suffer the consequences.”

Petra remained unmoved, however. She stood tall in the face of Edelgard’s judgment and said, “I am not betraying. I am keeping the promise I made for the professor. I am getting her away from you.”

“Regardless of the reason,” Ferdinand cut in before Edelgard could gather a retort, “you did allow the enemy commander to escape. As per Imperial law, we must place you under arrest until a trial can be conducted. Guards!” He motioned to the two soldiers with their spears still aimed at the traitorous princess. “Please escort Lady MacNeary to camp. We will deal with h—”

“There’s no need for that. Traitors must be dealt with immediately.” Edelgard advanced towards Petra, still hefting her axe in preparation. “Petra, if you care for your little island at all, you’ll accept your death peacefully.”

“Wh-what?” Dorothea gasped. “Edie, you… you don’t mean that, right? This is just a bad joke…”

“I concur!” Ferdinand snapped, his calm countenance growing increasingly frantic with every step Edelgard took. “Executing anyone at this point will do far more harm than good, especially without any investigation or trial. Just think about what this will look like to your men! We have more pressing issues at the moment!”

“I am the emperor.” Edelgard ground her teeth, frustrated with her friends’ inability to see the necessity of her actions.  _ All dissention must be cut out. I can’t allow it to fester. Why can’t they see that? _ “My judgement is absolute.”

“Have you actually lost your mind?!” Ferdinand’s voice cracked, hitting a register Edelgard had only heard during Mittelfrank operas. Somehow, he was able to keep shrieking at her, though his words began blurring together with how unpleasant it was to listen to. “We have taken severe, nearly catastrophic losses today. One mage --  _ ONE MAGE _ \-- took out five percent of our remaining forces by  _ sighing _ . And yet, you want to execute one of your top generals? We cannot afford that kind of blow to morale!” He took another step towards Edelgard, hands clenched tight. “Need I remind you that Rhea is still alive. Dimitri is still alive. The Kingdom forces will rally with renewed vigor, while we have lost the one person our men looked to for leadership more than you! What the HELL happened, Edelgard? What did you do to Byl-”

“I’ve heard enough from you,  _ Duke Aegir _ .” Edelgard turned on her heel, almost mechanically, and swung Aymr at Ferdinand’s pretty, little neck. If she couldn’t take the King of Delusion’s head, then she’d just settle for the Duke of Ignorance instead.

Ferdinand’s eyes went wide with sheer terror as the axe came at him, knowing that trying to flee was futile. A twisted grin spread on Edelgard’s face as she realized just how nice it would be to attend a meeting without hearing his grating voice over her dear teacher. But something hit Aymr mid-swing, causing it to angle down and strike Ferdinand’s arm instead of his neck. She whirled around, tearing Aymr from the now-screaming nobleman’s arm, and sought out whomever had dared to interfere with her sentence.

Petra crouched before her, her dagger sheath empty and her eyes defiant. It was clear that she had thrown the blade which spared Ferdinand’s worthless life, and Edelgard glowered at her. “You dare interfere with my judgement?”

“I am full of Brigid pride,” she growled back, hand on the hilt of her sword. “I will not be letting you hurt my friends.”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes. She’d once been impressed with Petra’s fortitude and dedication to the Empire, how she did everything she could to ensure her people’s prosperity. And yet, she hadn’t hesitated to throw that all away. Edelgard gripped Aymr’s handle even tighter. “You should have simply accepted your fate. Caspar!” She turned her iron gaze to the rest of the Strike Force. “Execute this traitor immediately, but keep her head. I want her people to know exactly whose pride condemned them.” Edelgard smiled at the sheer horror that passed over Petra’s face before turning back to the downed Prime Minister. “I will deal with Duke Aegir.”

But something odd happened. Caspar didn’t eagerly reach for the axe slung across his back. He didn’t even move. Instead, he glared back at her, hands balling into fists as he yelled, “No way! Go find another headsman, because I’m  _ done _ listening to you!”

Edelgard just stared at the defiant warrior, her thoughts whirling.  _ Did he not hear me? Is he thinking clearly? Has he gone mad? Is  _ everyone _ going mad?  _ She spoke slowly and clearly, so that he wouldn’t misunderstand her this time. “Repeat what you just said,  _ General _ Bergliez. I’m sure you didn’t just refuse a direct order. Even you aren’t that stupid.”

“Well, apparently, I am that stupid! But at least I’m not a murder-happy toady like your Death Knight. I’m OUT! I never wanted to be part of this war in the first place!” Caspar then went to Ferdinand’s side and pulled the now-sobbing nobleman out of Edelgard’s reach.

Edelgard could tell from the tremble in his arms that Caspar was afraid. He’d always obeyed orders without question, so this sudden defiance felt like a hallucination. But between the rain and the smoke and the cries of dying soldiers, she knew it was real. “Your actions now mark you as a traitor, Caspar. Do you think you can simply  _ leave _ ?”

“Who’s going to stop us? You?” Dorothea snapped, fire dancing around her fingertips. “You couldn’t even stop a half-dead king from running off! How will you stop all of us?”

Whatever haze had come over Edelgard’s vision fled in an instant. The world wasn’t going mad. Just her friends. But surely there were at least a few among her companions who were not so weak willed to fall to madness.

“Miss Varley. Lady Nuvelle.” Edelgard slowly turned her gaze to the two generals who had yet to speak. Both remained astride their mounts, though neither made any move to stop Caspar from hoisting Ferdinand into his steed’s saddle.  _ They must be in as much shock as I was, _ she told herself. “You would not be so cavalier as to stand against me, would you?”

Unsurprisingly, Constance was the first to give voice to her thoughts. “Your Majesty… you know that I would do anything to restore my House to its former glory.” For a moment, it almost looked like she was shifting into her more dour persona, a shadow falling over her face as she considered what to say next. “However, I have no desire to tie my name to such wanton bloodshed. As much as it pains me to throw away the progress I have gained in the Empire, I shall stand with Ferdinand and Petra.”

“M-me too! I… I don’t want to fight for you anymore!” Bernadetta squeaked before shrinking back from Hubert’s sharp gaze.

Edelgard took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Traitors. They were all traitors. And they would die like traitors. “Very well, then.” She opened her eyes and fixed all her former friends with an icy stare. “By order of the Adrestian Emperor, I sentence you all to death!”

The reaction was immediate. Petra drew her sword, and Dorothea summoned a small fireball between her hands. Caspar unslung his axe, Bernadetta drew her bow, and Constance kicked her pegasus into flight. At her side, dark magics swirled around Hubert, ready to unleash unspeakable horrors at her command. If a battle was to happen, then so be it.

“Yeah, we all know that’s not going to happen.”

All eyes turned to Linhardt, who was the only one yet to ready a weapon. Instead, he yawned and casually walked between the two sides, mounting his horse again as if he had all the time in the world.

“It is not?” Petra asked, her confusion the plainest to see.

“Of course.” Linhardt gave a weary smile. “We’re all exhausted from the battle, and I can tell that we’ve all got more injuries than we’d like to admit. If we fought right now, we’d all just end up killing each other. It’s far more advantageous for both sides if we just pack up our troops and go our separate ways.”

Another tense silence followed, ending only when Bernadetta and Constance silently offered a ride to the two who were lacking a mount. Edelgard wanted nothing more than to kill all of her false friends right there and then, but she couldn’t deny that Linhardt had a point. The ache of battle weighed down her arms, seeming to make her armor grow heavier with each passing moment. Even her rage was cooling as the temptation of sleep pulled at her eyelids.

“So,” she sighed as the former Black Eagles took off, “are you deserting, as well?”

Linhardt paused as he reined his horse around, having the decency to give her his attention while he metaphorically spat in her eye. “Let’s see… given the choice between turning my back on my home, branding myself a traitor, and forfeiting my inheritance; or never having to spend another sleepless night doing your dirty work ever again… I’ll take the one that affords me more naps.”

“You’re merely delaying the inevitable,” Hubert hissed, though his voice lacked the venom it usually had.

“I’ve been doing that my whole life. I do hope we never see each other again. Farewell.”

As the last of her former generals rode away, followed by their not inconsiderable amount of troops, Edelgard turned to the north. Off in the distance, the walls of Fhirdiad rose like a hideous monolith on the horizon. Soon, those walls would crumble to her unyielding might, and she would see her precious Byleth once more. The thought made a small smile settle on her lips.

“Hubert,” she said, “make sure the clean-up crews are doing their jobs, then return to base camp. We’ve a siege to plan.”

* * * * * * * * * *

As he arrived at Fhirdiad Castle, Dimitri silently thanked Claude for his flying lessons during their Academy days. Even though it was likely just a prank to see the crown prince get flustered, Dimitri wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to land safely without them. He idly wished he could return the favor, but such a time had long passed.

The frightened looks of his subjects quickly relaxed into joy when they saw the Imperial wyvern carried not an enemy soldier but their beloved king back to safety. No sooner had he dismounted when several guards and various servants flocked to him, Annette and Cyril among them.

“Your Majesty! Thank the Goddess you’re alive!” Annette slid to a stop by Dimitri’s elbow, teary eyes going wide as she saw who he was carrying. “Is— is that—?”

“Lady Rhea? Is that Lady Rhea?!” Cyril asked, his voice nearly cracking with panic. “Please tell me she’s not—”

For a moment, Dimitri wondered if he’d hallucinated Byleth’s face and the woman in his arms was actually the archbishop. With how weak and tired he felt, he wouldn’t have been surprised. But a quick glance at his savior’s face told him he hadn’t gone crazy. “The archbishop should be returning on horseback,” he said after a moment to reorient himself. “Cyril, find me a healer and bring them to the infirmary.”

“What?” Cyril reeled back as if struck. “You wanna save Byleth?! Lady Rhea ain’t gonna be happy with—”

“That was an order! Not a suggestion!” Dimitri winced at the anger in his own voice. The day was too long already, though, and he simply couldn’t muster the energy to apologize at that moment.  _ I’ll do that later, once everything settles down. _

Cyril immediately snapped to attention. “Y-yes, sir!” He nearly fell over himself as he went to find help, bumping into several others in his haste.

With a heavy sigh, Dimitri turned to Annette. “How much of your Faith lessons do you remember?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “I can probably manage a basic Heal spell, but that’s it.”

“Do it. She doesn’t have much time.”

Dimitri felt the ambient warmth as Annette placed her hands on Byleth’s chest and concentrated on the spell. As the magic seeped into her damaged body, Byleth’s eyes fluttered open. Even though her gaze was glassy and unfocused, Dimitri let out a sigh of relief. During their flight, he could feel her body going cold as her blood painted the ground, and he worried that he was already too late. Seeing her green eyes dart around once more put those worries to rest.

“Thank you.” Dimitri gave Annette a tired smile and nodded towards Petra’s wyvern. “Make sure he’s well taken care of. I owe him my life as much as Byleth’s.”

“I’ll do my best!” Annette gave him an awkward, teary hug before going to help the distressed wyvern.

Dimitri gave her a thankful nod before dashing into the castle. People leapt out of the way as their king made a beeline for the infirmary, determination and his Crest lending speed to his steps. He was so focused on moving forward that he didn’t realize Byleth had been speaking quietly until he passed through the infirmary doors and slowed his pace.

“H-hey…” Her voice was so soft as to barely be an exhalation of breath. “Where…?”

Dimitri answered automatically, though a part of him longed to soothe and comfort her more. “Fhirdiad Castle. You’re safe now.” A quick glance around the room, and he caught sight of an empty bed.

A light thump on his breastplate drew his attention to Byleth as he began walking again. It looked as though she was trying to tap his armor, but all she managed to do was roll the back of her hand against the blackened steel. “Is Father… here? He should… be here…”

“Don’t try to speak,” Dimitri insisted as he laid her on the woollen sheets. “Your father isn’t here, and I pray you don’t rush to meet him.”

When he withdrew his arms and pulled away, Byleth caught sight of his face. A loving smile spread across her lips, and she chuckled feebly. “D-Dimitri?” Byleth gasped, weakly reaching for him. “When did you… grow your… grow your hair… out? It looks… nice...”

“Don’t move. You’ll hurt yourself.” Dimitri gently grasped her hand, upon which he felt all the strength leave her shaky limb. He knew he should be furious with her, that he shouldn’t care what happened to her after everything she’d done. And yet, looking upon Byleth as she slowly died from a wound meant for him, Dimitri felt only regret and sorrow. “I have a healer on their way here now. Just hold on. Please hold on.”

For the briefest of moments, Byleth’s eyes seemed to focus, and she gave a shallow nod. “Okay.”

That single word, soft and weak though it was, set Dimitri’s mind as ease. She wouldn’t die, at least not yet. Not to Edelgard’s attack. He let out a sigh of relief just as Manuela rushed into the room. She shooed him away to give herself space to work, and Dimitri happily obliged. He would have more chances to speak with Byleth. Of that, he was certain.

For the time being, though, Dimitri found an unoccupied bench nearby and laid down. The adrenaline of battle had worn off long ago, so he allowed himself to indulge in a bit of well needed sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rhea arrived back in Fhirdiad just ahead of the Imperial outriders, her horse’s tail barely past the gate when it slammed shut. She hardly cared, though. The Hresvelg girl -- that  _ bitch _ \-- had driven her back once more, forcing her into yet another “safe haven”.

_ More like a snare, _ Rhea thought, slowing her mare to a trot as they passed worried citizens and frightened children.  _ Driving me to the edge of a cliff, either to die by her hand or my own. Oh, Wilhelm… what a tragedy it all is, that your only scion be such a vile serpent. _

When she and her honor guard arrived back at the castle, Rhea handed the reins off to an eager stablehand and trudged back towards the fortified walls that served as her refuge for the past five years. She hadn’t even reached the door before a familiar face ran to greet her.

“Lady Rhea!” Cyril nearly cried in joy. He slid to a stop in the muddy ground just short of Rhea and gave an awkward, stiff bow. “Thank goodness you’re safe. We were all worried when King Dimitri came back without ya.”

“He lives?!” After the scene she fled, Rhea thought there was no way Dimitri could’ve escaped. But Cyril had no reason to lie, and after a moment to regain her composure, she smiled. “That… that is good to hear. How is His Majesty faring?”

“He ain’t injured. Least, not too bad,” Cyril said, confirming what she already suspected. However, something in his voice gave Rhea pause.

“There’s something else, is there?”

Cyril nodded. “Yeah. People are sayin’ that Edelgard was about to execute him, and that Professor Byleth was the one to stop it.”

Rhea’s blood ran cold at that name. “Byleth? That wretched child?” She hissed, pushing her draconic fury back down into the depths of her soul. For now, at least, she didn’t want to transform and destroy a good portion of Dimitri’s home. “They must have been mistaken. Or it was a ploy to bend Dimitri’s spirit. That…  _ child _ hasn’t the goodness to save anyone.”

Cyril shrank back under the intensity of her gaze, but it was a far less drastic reaction than the rest of those in the hall made, falling over themselves to avoid the seething archbishop. “That… that would be one heck of a ploy,” he stuttered, his trust in her the only thing keeping his feet from carrying him far away. “Byleth’s chest was cut almost clean in half. Dunno know she was still breathin’ after that.”

The chill in Rhea’s veins instantly turned to a raging boil. She had ordered Cyril to remain in Fhirdiad — he was still too young to risk his life in a last stand gambit — so the only way he could’ve seen what Byleth looked like was if… “She… that horrid, wretched child… is here? In Fhirdiad?”

Cyril just nodded.

“ _ Where _ ?” she hissed.

“Th-the infirmary.”

Rhea saw red as she stormed through the halls, heedless of anyone who crossed her path. For five long years, she trusted Dimitri and the Kingdom with her safety, yet he dared to bring  _ that child _ right into his home. Who knew what damage she could cause within the walls Rhea used to protect herself and her followers. Dimitri was quite familiar with Byleth’s deceptive nature, and it pained and angered her that he could fall to her sweet lies once more.

She could practically feel her tail thrashing as she drew closer to the infirmary. The red sky of sunset filtered through the windows, painting the world a fitting color for the brutality she would unleash upon her heathen spawn. She would look Byleth in the eye as she plunged a dagger into her chest, just as she had to Nemesis all those centuries ago.

Then, as she neared the infirmary doors, Rhea caught sight of the king’s black and blue armor slumped on one of the castle’s many padded benches. It appeared as though he were being shaken awake by one of the servants who initially fled from the archbishop’s murder march. She hardly cared, though. She would deal with Dimitri after Sothis’s Crest Stone was once more in her hands. But as Rhea drew near, Dimitri rose from his makeshift bed to block her path.

“Out of my way,” she hissed. “You have that  _ child _ — Byleth — in there. Don’t try to deny it.”

Dimitri let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “It’s good to see you safe and sound, as well, Your Grace,” he said flatly. “But yes, Byleth is here.”

The ease with which he admitted Byleth was within the castle walls only served to stoke the fires of her rage more. “Then stand aside,” Rhea said. “She must pay for her crimes before she’s allowed to commit more.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Rhea reeled back, though whether out of confusion or indignity, even she didn’t know. “Do you truly mean to protect that  _ traitor _ ? I would expect such behavior from that lecherous friend of yours, but you? Do not tell me she seduced you with her pretty face and lies.”

With each passing moment, Dimitri’s eyes grew brighter with the clarity of wakefulness, and he winced as her accusation seemed to poke at an old wound. “She saved my life,” he said softly, as if he didn’t believe it himself. “She saved my life by nearly giving hers. I won’t repay that by killing her in her sleep.”

“You’re mistaken. She is incapable of such selflessness.” Rhea’s hand came to rest on her dagger, the same dagger she once used to end Nemesis’s worthless life. Nearby servants and knights tensed at the action, but Rhea paid them no heed. She wouldn’t use her blade on Dimitri. Only on Byleth. “And even if what you say is true, her crimes are too great to warrant anything but a merciful death. Now.. stand. Aside.”  _ Soon, Mother… Soon you’ll be back in my arms. _

“My stance remains the same, Your Grace.” Despite his best efforts to remain calm, a slight glare settled on Dimitri’s face as his voice grew colder. “Byleth will remain in my care -- and  _ alive _ \-- until I determine whether she is still a threat.”

“How  _ dare _ you!” Rhea snarled, her draconic strength welling up within her body. Her blood roared for vengeance, and it took every ounce of her willpower to keep reverting to her Immaculate form. She gripped the hilt of her dagger, eager to see it drenched with Byleth’s heathen blood. “Give her to me,” she ordered, every word dripping with venom. “Give me back my mother.”

To his credit, Dimitri didn’t back down, merely crossing his arms and sighing heavily. “I understand your anger, Archbishop,” he said. “But I can’t allow you to pass judgement without giving her a chance to explain her side. Byleth stayed with the Empire all this time… and yet she was willing to sacrifice herself to save me. Something’s missing from this picture, and Byleth is going to give me that missing piece.”

“She doesn’t deserve it!”

“Whether she deserves it or not is irrelevant. She is a prisoner of war and will be treated as such. That includes keeping her alive until she’s had a chance to defend her actions. That point is not negotiable!”

Rhea grit her teeth, rage simmering just beneath her skin. She knew that snapping at Dimitri’s hand was a poor choice; without his protection, the knights and clergy would’ve been taken prisoner or killed long ago.  _ But she’s so close, _ the childish part of her -- the Seiros who never moved on from being a little girl -- cried.  _ Mother’s so close. Push the king aside and take her back.  _ “You have no right,” she hissed, letting each word hang in the air with as much venom as she could muster.

“I have every right,” Dimitri countered. “As King of Faerghus, I cannot allow you to break wartime law. If you attempt to cut out Byleth’s heart, then I will be forced to try you for insubordination and murder. And I have no wish to do that.”

Rhea barely heard him over the pounding of blood in her ear. He wanted to keep Byleth — to keep her mother — from returning to the safety of Rhea’s hands. Her fury boiled over, and she grabbed his collar in both hands, slamming him back against the wall. “You don’t know what she is! What she’s done!” Rhea roared, blind to everyone in the hall except the man keeping her from her revenge. “You’re just a  _ human _ , parading around with my brother’s bones on a stick! Your kind’s laws never cared for me, so why should I care for them?! Now, step aside, and give me the vengeance you promised me!”

To Dimitri’s credit, he didn’t flinch. He barely grunted when his back hit stone. Instead, he met Rhea’s gaze calmly, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Gently gripping her wrists, he peeled her off his cloak as easily as he would a child. “I have not forgotten my promise, Your Grace,” Dimitri said slowly, his brows knit together with concern. “I will do everything in my power to bring justice to those who mean to harm you… but I’m no longer certain Byleth is one of those people. I will not act until I’m sure.”

Rhea wanted to pound on his chest in frustration, to yell that it was far too late for Byleth. That woman turned her back on everything the Goddess stood for -- everything her mother stood for -- so it shouldn’t have mattered if she repented now. One good deed did not undo the years of suffering and hardship. It didn’t bring back those lives that had been lost.

But something in Dimitri’s eyes, in his calm voice and steady touch, cooled the fires of her rage. Her mind brought images to bear of a young clan leader, stepping forward from the crowd and extending his hand in friendship. Dimitri was no Wilhelm, but he was far more similar to the First Emperor than the current emperor was. He hadn’t betrayed her trust for the five years since the war started; he wouldn’t betray her now. Not for the woman who shattered his heart.

Taking a deep breath, Rhea stepped back. “Very well. I will not kill her until after you have your answers.”

Dimitri narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “You will not kill her until it’s warranted. And as a prisoner of the Kingdom, I will make that judgment. Understood?”

“Understood,” Rhea hissed and began stalking back down the hall. The part of her that remained rational -- the part that survived hundreds of years on her own -- told her that Dimitri was right. She had no jurisdiction here, as Byleth was never a true member of the Church. More than that, the Knights of Seiros would’ve lost a dozen times over had Dimitri not given them asylum. Rhea would be an idiot to bite the hand that saved her from certain death.

And yet…

The dragon within her -- the vengeful creature that only wanted her mother to return -- kept whispering that Dimitri would see the error of his decision. That he’d fall to Byleth’s evil ways and lament that he didn’t forfeit her life sooner. Then Rhea would cut out her heart, and she’d have everything she ever wanted.

It was only a matter of time.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Stupid, Duscur beast!” An Adrestian soldier kicked the large creature’s fallen form, sneering at the once-human thing. “That’s what you get for defying Her Majesty.”

If he’d been a slightly smarter soldier, then he would’ve realized this was an incalculably idiotic thing to do. After all, demonic beasts returned to their previous, human selves when they died.

Dedue’s red eyes flashed open. The soldier had mere seconds to consider his final thoughts before the monster’s massive paw tore him to shreds. With the careful slowness so ingrained in his body, Dedue rose from the muddy ground. His mind was a whirlwind of jagged points, telling him to rampage. To kill. To soak the ground with blood. Dedue roared, eyes searching and nose sniffing for anyone else to rend.

Yet, one thought sat at the eye of that mental storm, and it sang loud and clear over the cacophony.

_ Protect Dimitri. _

But Dimitri wasn’t on that field of battle.

Where was he?

Turning his attention towards the north, Dedue caught sight of white walls on the horizon, built high with parapets and a sturdy gate.

_ Home. _

Dedue began lumbering towards the city, heedless of the frightened cries and harsh commands of enemy soldiers. He had no interest in squashing them.

Dimitri needed his shield.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and constructive critiques are greatly appreciated!


End file.
